


A Weapon or an Heir

by crabappleJohnny



Category: Voltorn
Genre: ABO, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Bondage, Dubious Consent, F/M, Fantasy, M/M, Occult, Omega Verse, Omegaverse, dub con, implied sexual violence, past sexual violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 08:18:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20327995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crabappleJohnny/pseuds/crabappleJohnny
Summary: Prince Lotor has been tasked with breeding the Champion.An excerpt chapter from ongoing project "Witch and Werewolf Sheith AU" comic posted on Twitter.https://twitter.com/i/moments/1157450725510619136





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Langamire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Langamire/gifts).

Lotor was standing stiffly at the window, watching the fading light of day pass over the valley. His lips were a thin line, eyes partially narrowed and jaw tense. The Witch was watching him, waiting for a response. He didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of an answer, but she’d never leave him be. This wouldn’t end in silence.

“Well?” The Witch hissed, face obscured by her veil. The tattooed lips visible in a cascade of silver hair, along with the large gnarled horns that seemed to be carved of bark the same color as the WItch’s skin. 

The Prince shifted a thin eye towards his birth mother, his creator. How many abominations had she brought to flesh? Weren’t they capable of doing her bidding? Here she was asking for a child. An heir? A grandchild? What was he after all- with parents like his. A father that was closer to Godliness than humanity, and a Mother who’d abandoned hers many centuries ago. Together somehow they’d created a bond that sparked his life. 

‘Godliness,’ Lotor thought, ‘is part of my inheritance.’

‘And here the WItch seeks to breed me without ceremony and without sentiment.’

“The Champion is fertile, he only needs to be provoked. So far all have failed.” Haggar pressed. “Not for want of trying. Commander Sendak attempted to bond with him, but Sendak seeks the company of too many mates. Not suitable.”

“How many prospective studs have you thrown at the Champion before myself?”

“The Emperor has kept company with him to no avail. His presence struck fear and only intimidated the Champion into terrified submission. No heat, no conception.”

“Now I’m insulted and repulsed.” Lotor tried to block the image from his mind, it burned like hot coals in his temples. The Witch was asking him to be third in line to bedding a single omega. What a mess, an unappetizing and unethical mess. 

“I won’t do it.” Lotor snapped.

“You must.” The WItch returned. “Consider this an apology for past behaviour. Your treatment of his Lordship in public recently has been uncouth and requires recompense.”

Lotor was old enough to have learned not to lose his composure in the presence of either one of his parents. Swallowing hard he restrained the desire to rip the drapes from their place at the window and strangle the Sorceress with them. If she really could read his mind, which she’d alluded to despite Lotor’s greatest efforts to thwart this, then she would see his writhing burning hatred for her. This request was another stab at his dignity, at his pride, at his heart.

He wouldn’t let her know about the latter.

“You can slither back to the Emperor and tell him I’ll not be his breeding stallion.” Lotor turned sharply and pointed in the WItch’s direction. “Breed him yourself if you must but leave me out of it.”

“Stallion? Would you rather be gelded and kept on display?”

Lotor winced openly, lowering his hand before clenching it into a fist. The insult was heavy but the threat all the more so. It sunk in his belly like a lead weight, sending a shiver of cold through his groin and spine. 

“Do you enjoy this city? Do you love these people?” Haggar’s form shifted to look out the window. Lotor’s estate was built into a hillside with terraced gardens spilling layer by layer into a rich valley full of farmland that stretched for miles. It was the early days of summer and a wide array of vegetables and fruits were already being harvested and sold in the markets. Lotor had worked tirelessly with these people to establish a growing city state. Merchants and traders flocked to the lush land to provey and gather goods. Artists and musicians were drawn in by the natural beauty and architectural heritage of the region. It was a land rebuilt from its original foundations and brought into the modern age. Schools of philosophy and magic flourished and grew to notoriety. Lawmakers were seen as fair and just, crime was kept at a minimum through merit of the people. It was almost perfect. Perfection was unattainable so they say, but Lotor was intent on achieving just that. 

“Have you found a place you belong here?”

Lotor was curling inward, taking the words as they came like blasts of frigid air.

“I know how the soldier’s look at you.” Haggar warned, raising her own finger as if to curse him. “You may be an alpha but you share my weaknesses. You are small and you give the façade of fragility. Your beauty has thus far been used as a weapon, but can also be your undoing.” She lowered her hand but bared her teeth.

“You are meant to strengthen the Empire, this place you’ve so graciously curated to suit your desires could vanish in an instant. The purging flames of an army would have this land razed to the ground. “

“This city raises soldiers!” Lotor snapped. “It inspires the minds of engineers and weapon makers. Do not discount my credit to the cause. Our mines feed the forges that give arms to your soldiers. Our livestock feed and clothe them, our scholars record the great historical accomplishments of my Lord and King our God Emperor Zarkon!” Lotor breathed in ragged tones, glaring at his Mother across the room. He felt heat in his face, his anger and humiliation were evident.

“We are the soldiers. And we protect your citizens from those who would wish to harm them. But they are a hungry army, they are a ravenous lot. Even without malicious intent they would consume your city’s people out of house and home. Provisions are always needed, soldier’s quarters in high demand.”

“I’m sick of threats. If you demand something so menial from me- that even a dirty serf of   
low morals and standing could accomplish in some seedy taverna - so be it!”

Haggar didn’t show any physical acknowledgment of Lotor’s compliance nor did she retort with anything hinging on emotional.

“The Champion has already been prepared. They’re awaiting your arrival in the Red guest chamber.”

Lotor was struck with a look of shock and disgust, bordering on awe that all of this had been done without his knowledge. His staff had taken her side? His own men had cowered in the WItch’s presence… the childish part of him could understand why.

“You’ve been plotting this behind my back? When did he arrive?”

“The Champion came with me, I’ve only kept him concealed since my arrival. He’s been tempered, travels well now. More obedient.” The WItch raised her head, gazing at her Son beneath the veil. ”You could learn some manners…”

“Don’t Mother me at a time like this, Witch.”

“You spit that word from your mouth like a curse. You’re Witch-kin, you’re gifted and cursed. Born an alpha and a male but tinged with Magic like your Father. I anticipate greatness from any offspring you can produce with the Champion.”

Lotor adjusted his collar, clearing his throat. He didn’t want to think about his Father and progeny before the humiliating act of mating per his command. It didn’t matter how many times Lotor had laid with a woman previously, it only mattered that this time it would not be by choice. On behalf of the parents he despised, he was to produce, what?

“Am I hoping to create a weapon or an heir?” Lotor gave an icy look, feeling the heat in his face recede. His skin was pale lavender but his blush was like magenta bruising. He was calm now but couldn’t predict for how long. He would try not to dwell on murderous contempt.

“That will be decided should a pregnancy take place. But as of yet there are no guarantees.”

“Indeed.” Lotor said with a frown, raising a hand to his throat to pull at his collar once again. It felt tight when he swallowed, his mouth was dry and tasting of salt. He needed a drink.

Haggar motioned to the door, and as if summoned, two Druids entered the room. They didn’t walk, their robes simply carried them across the floor, what should be legs and feet were plumes of bluish gray smoke that swirled up and vanished as they passed.

“I won’t be needing your body guards as escorts.” Lotor pushed between the two sentinels, avoiding contact with his Mother as he exited the room.

“The Emperor will be pleased.”

“I really wish he weren’t.” Lotor said, undoing his collar all together now. Might as well get it over with.


	2. The Evening's Conquest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Prince attends to his duties.
> 
> An excerpt chapter from my ongoing project "Witch and Werewolf Sheith AU" comic I've been posting on Twitter.
> 
> https://twitter.com/i/moments/1157450725510619136

Lotor could sense the hovering presence of Haggar’s Druids in his wake. Of course they would follow him, make sure he saw to the task at hand. It sat uneasily with him what little power he had in his own capitol. The witch so easily undermining his authority, leaving it to his men to bow and take heed her every order. How could he not have known she’d brought the Champion along? Were his senses so dull that he couldn’t sense a powerhouse of magical fortitude when it entered his own home? Lotor had seen first hand and had been impressed by the Champion’s cunning use of combative skills and spells. Capable of defending himself with both weapons and magic. When one should fail, there’s always the other.

Lotor made his way down the main staircase, a carved behemoth of black marble and pounded gold. The banners and carpeting throughout the hall were blood red, with his Father’s insignia embroidered in a place of reverence. This was His continent after all, soon to be his entire world.

Lotor saw through the parade of servants moving about the lower levels, they passed without a nod, stepping out of his way without a glance. His eyes were steady, glaring straight ahead. He could see the Red door of the guest suite looming at the of the dimly lit hallway. One maid awaited his arrival. She was petite, demure in composure. She was part Beast, common among the folk of Lotor’s city. A halfbreed like him. Her Father had been a cyclops, and though she inherited this unique facial feature, she was quite pretty and Lotor felt at ease in her presence. Haggar, assuredly, had meant for this.

The Druids were gone, had enough sense not to follow him this far. No, just him, the little maid, and the Champion. 

“We’re alone?”

“Oh yes, it’s just m’self and you, and the one in there.” She was blushing, looking down with her one very pretty eye. “Though I musn’t talk about thet. I was told to wait outside should y’need anythin’. But it’s all set up nice ‘an tidy like.”

Lotor was softened by her accent and polite shyness. The WItch knew him well.

“I’ll just go in and...inspect then.” Lotor shifted his gaze back to the looming Red door, composing himself before entering the guest chamber.

“I’ll just be here should y’need a thin’ don’t hesitate.” 

Lotor closed the door behind him.

The room was dark, too dark. All the lamps had been set to low, the windows had been shuttered and curtains closed. A few meager candles did their best to illuminate the space, they were lined at the base of a large vanity’s mirror. The reflected lights glimmered and made the room dance. 

The Prince’s eyes were adjusting and shapes came into form, colors gained substance. The room, garish and bright in the light of day, was more like mulled wine in its current state. Dark red fabric covered a good portion of what wasn’t finely polished dark wood, and the scent of roses and musk was heavy in the room. Some sort of incense assuredly meant to arouse the senses, like some cheap trick from a brothel.

There was a groaning sound, then a rustling, and heavy breathing. Someone had just acknowledged his presence. There was another soft groan, and then something that sounded like a whimper.

“Champion?” Lotor spoke into the darkness. He was drawing nearer to the four post bed, it’s translucent curtains obscuring what he assumed was his evening’s conquest. 

No response, in fact the sounds stopped altogether.

Lotor pulled the thin curtain back, exposing the figure of a shaking young man, limbs bound, mouth gagged. His eyes were wide and staring, half confusion half terror. His ankles were tied to posts on either side of the bed’s base, exposing him completely. He was positioned on his belly, hands tied directly in front of him to the headboard. Saliva was slicked around his lips and chin. How long had he been like this?

His Mother’s insistence on preparations must have been such. The magnitude of this insult rushed over him in a wave, but more pressing was the circumstance of this prospective mate. Should their progeny be an heir, he couldn’t treat someone he planned to bond with in this manner. But bonding was beyond this moment, this was an experiment conducted by his parents, inflicted on he, their unfortunate child.

Lotor languidly examined the Champion. Perhaps he was bound because of his strength? Maybe this was for Lotor’s own good. Around the captive’s neck was a dampening collar, it prohibited its wearer from channeling magic. So he wasn’t a threat in a magical sense, but his arms were thick, muscles broad and dense. The Champion’s arm was as wide round as Lotor’s thigh.

The Prince sat on the bed, reaching above the Champion to unhook his wrists from the headboard. His body fell to relax, having been forced into a painful position for so long. He breathed with relief through his gag, eyes squeezed shut at a moment's respite from pained restraint. His ankles were still spread, but Lotor was steadily unfastening them as well. Before long the Champion was unbound,and Lotor went about undoing the gag. There was a gurgling sound as he removed the bit from between the Champion’s teeth. It must have been painful and suffocating. Perhaps the witch did not know him so well, if this was her offering. No wonder he’d not been able to breed if this was the state in which he was mated.

The Champion was curling inwardly, his arms pressed against his chest, hands shakily rubbing a sore jaw. Up close, in this position, he seemed much smaller. Not quite the warrior he’d been built up to be in the arena. Very few knew the Champion was an omega, his sex was only determined after a near fatal injury had him in the infirmary. It was discovered that yes, the terrifying Warlock dominating the gladiatorial ring, was actually an omega WItch. They would have bred him either way, male or female, alpha or omega. But his being an omega should have made things easier. While they were rare, they were also the most fertile, capable of having litters of a dozen at a time, but only after a substantial heat.

‘The problem is that the Champion did not, or could not, have a heat.’ Lotor thought to himself while watching the Champion’s sad eyes open and close in a daze. They must have drugged him on top of it all. 

They were actually quite handsome, pretty for a male omega. Lotor had always preferred the company of women, their bodies were oftentimes smoother than men, they had soft places to lie your weary head, and warm places to envelop every inch of you. Their voices were like the trills of birds and the bubbling of streams. He preferred women and their playful indifference to the lustful insistence of men.

The Champion had a man’s exterior, down to a supple cock and balls, but Lotor had caught a glimpse of slit lips between those thighs, below the tight purse of his asshole and above the soft mounds of his testicles. Now those legs were pressed tightly together, and the Champion was watching him in turn. 

Lotor caught his eyes finally, having sated his interested in surveying the omega’s body.

“Do you know who I am?” Lotor asked with height in his tone. 

The Champion nodded, but said nothing.

“And that would be?”

“Prince Lotor, son of Zarkon, God Emperor of the Galra Empire, all ha-” Lotor pressed a finger over his lips to quell their speech.

“That’s enough. You don’t have to playact for me.”

The Champion looked puzzled and untrusting. No one, not even the servants, had treated him this way.

“Do you have a name?” The Prince asked. 

“Before...here...I was called Takashi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Smut comes next~

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading so far!


End file.
